And today it rains
still everything is okay.
I’ll weather the storm

Each page conveys the sentiment
the words, more meaning still
to pause for just, a moment
listening to, the writer's quill

Inspiration flows,
From my soul to my mind to my eye.
My quill glows,
Connecting the dots, of the paper my ally

It's there for you and me
the comradere of prose
sung, lined, rhymed, or free
and perfectly, composed

My quill sings a story,
My heart translates its feelings.
My paper is never lonely,
For the words fill its openings.

We deal with emotions
the ones, we can't suppress
words, in constant motion
poetically, expressed

The words we can,
We scream, shout or yell.
The words we can't,
We sit quietly and dwell.

The feel of synchronicity
a push, sometimes, a pull
not knowing what will, or may not be
a glass not empty, but yet, not full

I can almost see it
like a distant illusion
a nocturnal distortion
you, beside me
with stars in your eyes
like nebulas well disguised
and I don't know
the proper name for them

I can almost see it
like a premonition
of a self demolition
you, carrying the weight
of the world
as if it will make
you stronger
and I don't know how
to tell you
it only makes you ache

I can almost see it
or feel it
like I'm hugging your
bones goodbye
for one last time
but it's not crushing you
as it would crush me

I reference chasmic pressure
but I don't know how else
to call a void what it really is
home
I call it home
to wide eyes and slack jaws
they don't understand
there is comfort
in nothingness
there is a choice
in no choice
and there is a risk
in taking no risk at all

I like the way your nose flairs when you laugh
And the way your lip quivers
I like how you stand
And how your words flow like the rivers
Your smile gives me butterflies
In your eyes I become lost
I want to be yours
I’ll keep my fingers crossed